


Mirrorshard

by AChiaro



Series: Poetry [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Poetry, loose ryhme scheme, themes of modernization and capitalism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AChiaro/pseuds/AChiaro
Summary: Loosely rhyming poetry.Who amongst us really enjoys the postmodern experience, I'll never know. However, there has always been laughter at the edge of the abyss. Come in, kill some time, watch a fool argue with a ghost.
Series: Poetry [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653604
Kudos: 1





	1. Service

We've gone  
grieved widows, bereft of fear  
walked the desert, shadows long  
into the iron beast.

I remember, curled up, crying  
dragging furrows in the stone.  
Begging, pleading, screaming, lying  
turning my eyes far from the sun.

The terror sickly sweet  
laid heavy, cloying on my tongue,

I brought ( _I served_ ) the soup, the meat,  
the maggots gnawing on my skin.  
I say, to you, to all: that I was new, no hand  
would hold me, catch my stumbling fall

(Not, never: The dream of glass shards so to rend  
that scared face off the cold and unmoved bones.  
 _This, they cannot know._ )

Come! See! Reach for a blinking knife  
( _Here, I bring it, wrapped in white!_ )  
Come share this meal, oh loving wife,  
Think not! Try not! ( _But you just might-_ )

Has it too, this delicious thing, left ashes in your mouth?   
Is this not how we feel alive?  
It's now gone on, unmourned, unknown,  
to turn some other heart to stone.


	2. Inferno

Look, see the whiskey drunken child   
here, she sprawling sits,  
and thinks of being king, of riches  
wishing so bitter (cold on her bitten lips)  
to keep her rings, her diamond bliss.

They're stuck, the freezing golden bands, on slender marmorn fingers  
they cling mournful pity 'gainst her quill,  
In her bones (flesh, hot blood) a past yet lingers,   
where sun-soaked kingdoms flourished still.

Remember, demon pride's hiss mean   
(that ringing, godless, high and shrill)  
The smears and tricks that so amused you,  
the edges worlds away, unseen.

When it seemed your lost and empty  
canvas could never seem to fully fill.

Now it is gnawed with rust.

Your touch has lost its golden glimmer,  
the bricks you lay longer shine,  
those eyes now long for yonder shimmer  
that once unbound destroyed what's mine. 

All hunger and every pretty dream is drowned in golden haze.  
And the girl, not king nor queen.

The fire's sated, the embers fade to dust.


	3. The City

Come, sit down next to me, sit on the live wire  
and look out into the city.   
The jungle of steel, the anthill of excess  
where all beauty comes to die

 _(T_ _ell me what you see.  
_ _Darling, tell me why-)_

Look, there are the clouds of smog  
that reek of cancerous machines  
and scream and _cough_ and scutter on  
upon the deadening concrete.

There are the beggars lining streets  
dying outside warm empty rooms  
as they _plead_ and as they _cease-_  
nobody here cares about their doom.

(Would you help me light the torch?  
_No._  
Why, my dear, do you not see? This rotten carcass-  
_Darling, look out into the city with me.)_

There are the blinking lights below  
each one a gleaming jewel  
bright windows, a life that someone chose,   
each day, a thousand stories to unfold.

Look as they come together  
to weave this shining tapestry  
as from dirt huts, they have raised  
these neon shrines to gain and pleasure.

Look at this ticking machine heart  
\- each cog and hopeful screw is whirring -  
each nook holds some small, beautiful,   
deeply cherished cause and meaning.

See, my dear, the weeds within the cracks,  
the men behind glass walls-   
between dead steel and concrete shacks  
such life, such aching beauty hides.

(I see, I see, but it must burn.  
_O darling, I won't let it._  
Then so must you.  
_Perhaps, but for now, let us-_ )

Come sit with me, on the live wire,   
_let’s look upon the city_ ,  
and see, underneath the setting sun,  
_this pit of death and misery,_   
this sea of stars and stolen fire.


	4. Weep

Dream me a green little dream,  
sing me a sad little song.  
My jewelry have lost all its gleam  
ever since you’ve been gone.

_Dear, did you not hear? Love, our grand war is won-_

Can you give flowers to me  
and shining glittering stars?  
Your smile that I’ve wished to see  
since the land has gone dark.

_The enemy flees, I have made my mark._

Weeping widows await  
carrying lanterns at dusk.  
Soldiers lead through the gate   
ashes and bloodstains and rust.

_Now, though triumphant, it's just-_

Amongst them is one that is fair  
and lovely as sunflower smiles.  
I need him like I need the air  
and he has walked thousand of miles.

_My darling, I might be a while._

Come home to me now my dear -  
and put your cold hand into mine,  
darling, let's stay right here  
until the end of time. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry to keep moving poems around like this. I like to experiment with style but I am also attempting to create a smooth reading experience. That means arranging the poems to be in conversation with each other. Please bear with me. Also: I'd very much appreciate a kudos. I mean, you're here already, why not?


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